Tuesday, May 10, 2011


Geronimo, Indian, you never

do die, do you?

They haven’t forgotten

how you strove

on behalf of what was yours.

The British came for us Indians,

and we caved in;

many made merry, and do

to this day;

but you would not let the Yanks

have full sway.

Your WMD was the land,

the forests, the waters,

the peace, wisdom, the civilization

of your natural nation.

But their genocidal guilt

they cannot tame;

which is why they gave

to Osama your living name.

But the more they snuff out

the acorn of sanity, Geronimo,

the more you sprout;

have no doubt

that your argument on behalf

of the earth

will either ruin and rout

the mad marauders,

or oblige the furies of Nature

to take all, yielding new birth.

And when that happens, O Apache

philosopher, little Geronimos

all across the new world

shall sing hosannas of love,

and again you shall be the king

of universal caring.

Badri Raina

1 comment:

വര്‍ക്കേഴ്സ് ഫോറം said...

ബദ്രി റെയ്നയുടെ കവിത